


Ink and Icing

by ofhuntersandmen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Tattoos, Fluff, M/M, WIP, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2132832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofhuntersandmen/pseuds/ofhuntersandmen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something has to be done about the new tenants above the coffee shop Castiel works in: one of them is just too cute.</p><p>Inspired by real people I know and real events that happened to me. My life has become a collision of AU’s and I don’t know what to do about it.<br/>General audiences rating... For now. This will be subject to change as we go on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink and Icing

He really could do with another pair of hands right now.

They were never usually this busy on a Wednesday afternoon, but today it seemed as though the warmth of late summer had drawn out the whole town in search of lunch. There wasn’t a spare table to be found in the shop as Castiel rushed to & from the kitchen, loaded up with as many plates as he could possibly carry. He was starting to regret taking kitchen duty for the day as he served up order after order, a neverending flood of sandwiches and desserts that brought him back nothing but a mountain of dirty dishes to try and keep under control.

Although, one glance out the door was enough to see that working the front counter wouldn’t have been any better. He spotted Naomi over by the coffee machine, a row of cups behind her stretching all the way to the edge of the worktop. To anyone else walking in, she would appear completely unfazed by this manic rush, every inch the cool, calm entrepreneur with a string of successful past businesses to her name. But although Castiel had only worked there a couple of months, it was long enough to know better; every tap of perfectly manicured nails upon the wooden counter was another crack in the glass of her composure. And if Naomi was stressed... well, he definitely had problems. She was, by all definitions, a tough boss.

And then there were the new neighbours.

Castiel knew nothing about the place- hadn’t even known anyone had moved into the empty lot above them until this morning- but he sure wasn’t going to be forgetting anytime soon. The music had started at around 10:30, blaring out the open windows and seeping through the floors into the shop, and it hadn’t stopped since. All day, Castiel had seen customers casting looks upward as they muttered to one another in disgruntled tones. He might have been able to hear what they were saying on any other day.  
He glanced at the kitchen clock as he placed another tray of cookies into the oven to bake. 1:15. Hopefully nobody else would want to buy one within the next 10 or so minutes. A look over to the order board sent a sigh of relief running through him; it was empty.  _Finally._ He turned his attention to the dishes, and was reaching across for the bottle of soap when he realized it had gone quiet. He tilted his head to listen, but lo and behold, there was no longer any music. Castiel smiled to himself as the sink filled with bubbles.

By the time the cookies were ready, he had managed to wash all the dirty plates that had piled up and was starting to relax again. The gentle clink of cups and chatter of customers drifted in through the open kitchen door, and Castiel let himself remember how much he actually enjoyed his job, despite its occasional stresses. He opened up the oven, reaching in between the shelves for the tray, towel in hand…

And very nearly jumped out of his skin when the  _boom_  of a bassline suddenly came blasting from the lot upstairs.

He jerked violently; white hot pain shot through him as his arm made contact with the oven racks. Castiel bit back a string of curses as he recoiled from the heat, stopping only to turn off the oven before rushing across the kitchen in search of a cold tap. The feeling of cool water over his skin had him letting out a shaky breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, and as he stood by the sink he looked over the damage.

Oh, it was ugly. His skin was seared with angry red lines from the shelf racks, burns spanning from across his fingers to halfway up his left forearm. The ones along his wrists had already started to blister. He could feel his arm throbbing in time with the bass drum beats of the song upstairs. That was _it_. He’d had enough.

Hand still dripping with water, Castiel stormed out of the kitchen and through the shop, deaf to the sound of Naomi calling after him as he marched into the entryway that lead upstairs. All he could hear was the blood beating about his ears and that  _fucking_  music, louder with each step. It was near deafening by the time he approached the door to the lot and banged, hard enough for the wood to shake beneath his fists. ”HEY! HEY! LISTEN ASSHOLES, YOU BETTER OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GO-“

He was cut off mid-rant, fist in the air, as the door opened and a pair of bright green eyes in a handsome face stared back at him, eyebrows quirked in an expression of confused amusement.

" _Woah_ , easy there, tiger. What seems to be the problem here?"

It took a good few seconds for Castiel to even remember what  _the problem here_  was. To say the man was attractive was not doing him enough justice at all; both taller and stronger than Castiel, all tanned skin, full lips, and light stubble, the guy now leaning against the doorjamb was stunning. Castiel glanced down at his folded arms to see that they were adorned with tattoos, designs covering his skin right up to where the sleeves of his t-shirt clung to his biceps.

Managing to tear his eyes away long enough to look into the room behind, Castiel could see a small reception area with a desk and couches, and beyond that an open space, flanked by counters, bookshelves and a desk along the wall. There was an archway at the end that led into another section mostly out of sight, except for the huge sound system against the back wall still blasting out music. In the centre of the open space Castiel could see what looked a bit like a dentist’s chair; in it sat a young blonde woman, wearing headphones with her eyes closed and shirt hitched up to the bust, and it was then that it clicked, like the pieces of a jigsaw coming together.  _Oh, fuck no._

"This i-… uh… A tattoo studio?"  _Fuck._

The man’s eyebrows drew together. “Um…Yeah…” He gave Castiel a once-over, incredulous. “…Can I help you?”

A particularly strong wave of pain lanced through Castiel’s left arm, bringing his anger back with it. ‘Yeah, actually, you can. Turn down that music before I report you to the landlord. You’re disturbing our customers and-“

"Oh,  _really_?” The guy was grinning now. “So  _that’s_  why you’re here. I gotta tell you, I was wondering about the Betty Crocker getup.” He tilted his head towards Castiel, who, looking down, realized he’d forgotten to take off his apron. “You hear that, Benny?” The man called over his shoulder back into the room. “Coffee boy says we’re upsetting the tea party downstairs!”

"You’re kiddin’ me!? Seriously?" Castiel heard Benny before he saw him, a disembodied Louisiana drawl only just audible over the music, thick with sarcasm. A burly figure appeared from the room beyond the archway, and suddenly Castiel was beginning to regret this whole enterprise as he came to stand at the doorway just behind the other man. "We can’t be having that now, can we?"

"He says he’ll tell on us." The man at the door looked back at his friend with a playful smirk. Castiel’s stomach began to churn.

"Ooh. Scary." Benny turned away from the door with a laugh and sauntered back towards the sound system. "Well, we better give the little guy what he wants, then, hadn’t we?"

Castiel squared his shoulders and glared at the receding figure. “I am  _not_  little.”

That one had Benny turning back round to face him from across the room. “Oh really?”

"Your own disproportionate height does not make me below the national average for adult males."

The other guy burst out laughing, throwing his whole body into the action as he leaned back against the doorjamb. Benny made a gesture at him before disappearing back into the other room, turning off the sound system from a remote as he went. Once he’d recovered, the green-eyed man turned back to face Castiel.

"Huh. Man, I like you… I don’t know many people who’d even dream of back-talking Benny. Consider him put in his place." He held out a tattooed arm, hand open. "I’m Dean. And you are?"

Castiel took his hand and shook it. “Castiel.”

"Yeah, I’m just gonna call you Cas." Dean grinned again, except this time it wasn’t annoyance Castiel felt between his ribs at the sight of it. Dean’s eyes flicked downward, then did a double-take when he noticed Castiel’s injured arm. "What the hell happened there, dude?"

"I, uh… Baking accident. No thanks to you guys."

"Shit, who knew baking could be that hardcore, huh? Those look pretty serious." Dean gestured for Castiel to show him; his fingers traced lightly across Castiel’s skin, but it was still enough to have him wincing. "Sorry, sorry," Dean murmured as he ran his eyes over the burns, then back up to meet Castiel’s own. "You say this was on us?"

"Well… yes. Your music made me jump and burn myself."

"Fuck, I’m sorry, man," and Dean really did look it. "Won’t happen again, I promise. Here, let me fix you up, at least- We’ve got plenty of medic kits, I’ll be able to find you something." Green eyes stared down at him.

"That would be…" He wasn’t exactly in the position to refuse; besides, Dean was trying to do him a kindness. It would be rude to say no. "That would be good. Thank you."

Dean led him into the studio and over to one of the couches, telling him to take a seat and that he would be right back. Castiel sat, taking in his surroundings. The place was well-furnished and spotlessly clean, which Castiel supposed was a good thing for an establishment such as this. The girl in the chair had opened her eyes and was watching him, clearly puzzled, but ultimately said nothing. After a few minutes, Dean came back through the archway, a large green box in his hands. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He opened the box and rummaged for a second before holding up a small bottle of pills. “Take two of these- they’ll take the edge off, at least.”

They chatted to one another easily as Dean cleaned, dressed and bandaged Castiel’s arm with gentle hands, and by the time he was finished the drugs had kicked in and Castiel was feeling much better for it. He thanked Dean, who waved him off with a shrug and a smile. “It’s the least I could do.”

"No Dean, really, thank you," Castiel looked down at his bandaged arm and smiled. "I, uh… I owe you one."

"You don’t owe me jack, Cas." Dean matched his smile with one of his own. "Although… do you guys serve pie downstairs?" There was that grin again, and Castiel could scarcely manage to stammer out that yes, they did, and there’d be a slice for him, should he wish to come by sometime for one.

"I might just do that, y’know…" They stood there for a moment; Castiel found himself not wanting to leave, and Dean didn’t exactly seem eager to kick him out, either. Eventually it was the blonde girl in the chair that cut through their comfortable silence, gesturing to the half-inked design on her ribs.  
"Hey, Dean, you gonna stop staring and finish this, or what?"

"Sorry, Jo." Dean looked away at the floor, pink rising in his cheeks. "I, uh, I gotta go. Seeya around, Cas."

"Yes, sorry. Goodbye, Dean." Castiel turned and made his way back downstairs, explained himself to Naomi and finished his shift in something of a daze. He wasn’t quite sure it was all down to the painkillers.


End file.
